The last two weeks had been some of the best in Benji's nineteen years of existence—and it was all thanks to Troy.
When Troy first suggested a road trip, Benji had hesitated. He knew how hard it was for someone like Troy to go out in public without causing a scene. But he went along with it anyway, mostly because he could tell how badly Troy needed a break.
Back when he didn't work for Troy, Benji used to think that the life of a superstar must be so easy. Now he knew better. His own life was way more relaxed. At least he could go wherever he wanted without worrying about being mobbed.
So when Troy told him about buying a literal castle, it immediately made sense. Troy needed space. Freedom. A place where he could step outside without constantly watching his back for paparazzi or adoring fans.
The road trip was the first time since Benji had started working for him that he saw Troy fully let loose and enjoy life. The boy who had been staunchly loyal to Rihanna when they were dating had set all his inhibitions aside and was now functioning as a full-blown chick magnet. Wherever they went, girls would flock to him like moths to a flame, and Troy always had first pick of the litter. Every night, he'd return to his room with a different girl—sometimes more than one. The best part was that most of them didn't even recognize Troy at first, since he had significantly changed his body mass and hairstyle.
In an ideal situation, Benji would be jealous of Troy, but it was really hard to do that when Troy was such a great employer and friend.
Benji still remembered the first day of their journey like it was yesterday.
They had started right from Hawthorne Keep, driving out in a brand-spanking-new Range Rover that Troy had bought just days earlier. Jamie was behind the wheel, with Troy riding shotgun, a camera in hand.
"You planning to record the whole trip?" Benji had asked, watching as Ryan and Michael posed dramatically in front of the lens, like the narcissistic actors they were.
"Of course I am," Troy replied, recording cheekily. "I want to direct my next music video myself. Try my hand at it, you know? What do you say, guys—mind if I record you for it?"
"I'm fine with it," Ryan said easily.
"Me too," Michael and Jamie added in unison.
Benji hadn't even replied yet, but Troy had already started filming, capturing the moment as the boys started acting like—well, boys.
Cut to today—the result was ready in front of him, just one click away from going live on YouTube.
[The Nights, Avicii]
~: He said, "One day you'll leave this world behind
So live a life you will remember"
My father told me when I was just a child
"These are the nights that never die"
My father told me :~
The video was some of the best-edited footage of a song Benji had ever seen.
It opened with a soft, homey montage—Troy sitting in his living room in London, surrounded by his parents and Evan, strumming a guitar casually as the first lines of the song about seeing the world played in the background. Their family looked so happy and perfect.
Benji suspected it must be one of their old home clips that Evan or Steve must have taken a few months ago.
Then came the moment the beat dropped.
The screen cut to a handheld shot—Troy and his four friends driving along a narrow coastal road next to the gleaming white cliffs of Étretat, wind whipping through their hair as they stood atop a moving Range Rover with their arms stretched out, screaming into the wild.
From there, it was rapid-fire, breathtaking moments.
They were surfing crystal-clear waves in Biarritz, with clips of Michael wiping out spectacularly and Troy popping up from underwater, grinning like a madman.
In the next one, they jumped out of a plane over the orange-tinted skies of Seville, their parachutes unfurling in slow motion, capturing the awe on their faces mid-fall.
Benji still remembered the moment he almost shat his pants when it was his turn to jump out of the plane.
The scene was then beautifully transitioned into them snowboarding down pristine white slopes in the Pyrenees, cutting through powder like pros. Cut again—now they were skiing in the Alps, filming each other with handheld cameras, their laughter echoing over the rush of wind.
Next came a dreamy sunrise over Switzerland. The friends were floating in hot air balloons, their silhouettes outlined against golden clouds, Troy leaning over the edge to film Jamie pointing toward the horizon, wide-eyed like a kid seeing magic for the first time.
Then, a complete vibe switch: they were skateboarding through the streets of Munich, jumping curbs and laughing as Ryan nearly crashed into a fruit stall. The camera tilted with every wobble, capturing a chaotic joy that couldn't be faked.
The song built to its climax with shots of the group dancing at a silent disco in Amsterdam, jumping into a freezing lake in Austria, cooking sausages on an open fire in a forest in Slovenia, and playing street soccer with locals in Barcelona.
And finally—
A return to London. The five of them walked across Tower Bridge at twilight, shoulder to shoulder, their backs to the camera as the city lights blinked on one by one.
The video ended on a grainy camcorder shot of all of them standing in front of a wall under a bridge, spraying graffiti that read, 'LIVE A LIFE YOU WILL REMEMBER'.
The entire thing was the perfect video diary. A four-minute memory capsule of their adventure.
The best part was that there was no spoken dialogue or any sound from the guys (besides Troy's vocals), yet the happiness they shared in those moments, and the new friendship they formed in their limited time together, was clear as day for anyone to see. It was Benji's first time meeting Ryan and Michael properly, and he could say for sure that he enjoyed their company a lot. Ryan was a little older than the rest of them, but he went along with their group perfectly.
Another thing of note was that the song Troy had picked felt tailor-made for their journey—an uplifting, heart-pounding anthem that celebrated youth, freedom, and living without regrets.
"This is perfect," Benji said, barely above a whisper. "More than perfect. This is… wow."
"Thank you," Troy smiled. "But now starts the difficult part. You understand what you have to do, right?"
Benji fidgeted, reluctant. "I don't like it. But yeah… I'll do it."
Troy nodded. "Good. I'll take a commercial flight to Chicago tomorrow. Let's see how long we can keep up this charade."
"A month at most," Benji insisted.
"Wanna bet?" Troy raised an eyebrow. "If it's a month or less, I'll buy you any car in the world. If I win, you owe me one favor. But no foul play on your end, I'll know if you do it."
"Deal." Benji grinned, shaking his hand with zero hesitation. That car was as good as his.
(Break)
I'm still not sure if this was the right decision, but I decided to go along with it anyway. [The Dark Knight] ranked among my favorite films of all time, and for one reason only: Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I botched it in any way.
So I chose to do something only the most dedicated actors ever attempt—something I knew my parents would try to stop me from doing if they found out. I told them a small lie: that I was going on a full world tour for a few months, not just through Europe for half.
Benji had been instructed to keep sending them regular updates about the trip through text messages, so they wouldn't get suspicious or worried. Meanwhile, I would fly to Chicago, where the first part of [The Dark Knight] was scheduled to begin filming in two weeks.
The biggest reason for all this cloak-and-dagger behavior was the marketing plan I had come up with to promote [The Dark Knight].
(Flashback)
Christopher Nolan looked at me seriously and asked, "So what is this genius marketing plan of yours?"
Beside him, Dick Parsons gave me the go-ahead to explain.
I took a deep breath. "Usually, when someone is cast in a big-budget movie like this, the studio announces who's playing the villain so audiences know what to expect. I haven't even been cast yet, but I already know the backlash that'll come if people hear I'm playing the Joker. I'm too young, they'll say. I haven't ever played a negative role, so that would be another point of argument. So instead of making the announcement, why don't we keep my involvement a secret until the film is released?"
Chris turned to Dick in surprise. "Would that even be possible? I mean, hiding Troy's presence on set for months?"
Dick shrugged. "Anything's possible. Troy just needs to make sure he never steps out of his trailer without his makeup. Ever. We'll have the entire crew sign ironclad NDAs. Even then, we won't share Troy's name except with those who absolutely need to know—like his makeup and costume team. We'll keep the set closed as much as possible. And we'll hire a few body doubles for Troy—not just for stunts, but to confuse the crew about who the real Joker is."
Chris looked back at me, amazed. "Are you really ready to do all that? I wouldn't want to be in that position—hiding who I am for months. If it's backlash you're worried about, we won't respond to it. We'll answer with the power of your performance."
"Nah," I shook my head. "It's not just that. This would generate so much free publicity. Imagine—we finish filming, and no one knows who played the Joker. Like Kevin Spacey in [Seven]. That reveal was legendary. Now imagine [The Dark Knight] ends, the credits are about to roll… and then comes the reveal that I was the Joker all along."
Chris thought about it for a few moments, then nodded slowly. "We could even include a short bonus video in the home release—showing you getting into Joker makeup from your bare face. It would make your role iconic."
"While that all sounds great," Dick cut in, fixing his gaze on me, "don't forget one important thing: this only works if you give the best performance of your life."
"I will," I promised.
(Flashback End)
And that's why I ended up deciding to go full method for this role: to give the best performance of my life.
I didn't have much time to prepare, just two weeks, but I had one thing working in my favor: Heath Ledger's performance was etched in my memory. I remembered every scene of the movie so vividly that I felt confident I could replicate it. But I didn't just want to replicate it. I wanted to elevate it.
That's why I cut off all communication, even with Paolo, my head of security, and locked myself in my apartment. I had rented the place specifically for this role. Only my security team had access, and even they were limited to dropping off food. Everything else, I handled on my own. I may not be used to doing the cleaning and the cooking myself in recent years, but it wasn't hard doing things yourself for a change.
During our Euro trip, I'd realized something important: over the past few months, my appearance had changed so much—thanks to my added bulk and my new hairstyle, with long hair tied up in a bun—that most people didn't even recognize me. So, it was unlikely anyone would figure out who I was if I wore makeup constantly.
So that's what I did first for the role: I learned how to apply the Joker's makeup myself.
I didn't dye my hair green yet—that could wait until filming began—but I let it fall loose around my face. Then I painted my face white and added red lipstick. The best part was the skin-colored calluses the makeup team had provided—I pasted them at the corners of my mouth before painting over them with red. I was careful not to make the makeup too perfect; I left it uneven on purpose. I left the deep lines on my forehead untouched, even exaggerated them slightly, to enhance the expressions. I didn't have many facial lines because of my age, but skipping over them with the paint gave me a more menacing look.
And honestly, the result was astounding. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn't believe it was me. I grinned in realization—there was no way anyone would recognize me like this. From then on, I resolved to wear the face paint for as long as I could each day, just to make the eventual transition to long shooting days more tolerable.
With that, the easy part was done.
What remained now was the hard stuff: mastering the Joker's voice, his subtle facial tics, and that unhinged, hyena-like laugh. All of it combined was what made the role so iconic.
(Break)
Christian Bale paced around the room impatiently, eager to get this over with. For some reason, they were dragging it out far longer than necessary.
Finally, he turned to Nolan and said, "What's the matter, Chris? Is this actor someone great? Maybe DiCaprio? Why is he taking so much time? You're set to begin shooting tomorrow, and I haven't even met him. How is that fair?"
"Calm down, Christian," Nolan replied. "As I told you, he's a method actor. He probably got delayed while getting into character. I don't think he plans to show you—or anyone—his real face until filming is over."
Christian snorted. "You just had to go and hire a psycho, didn't you? What's his name, by the way? Have I seen him somewhere?"
Before Nolan could answer, the door behind Christian creaked open, and in walked a clown—the Joker.
His face was painted white, but the application was intentionally messy. The corners of his lips were covered in rough calluses, smeared over with red lipstick. His hair had been dyed a murky green. A dark purple suit completed the look.
"Hello," the Joker said in an eerie voice, waving at the two men. "I am the Joker. Good to meet you, Christian. Hi, Chris." He flicked his tongue across his lips like a snake, adding a dangerous edge to the performance.
Christian instinctively stepped back, clearly taken off guard.
"What happened to your voice?" Nolan asked nonchalantly, as if the whole thing didn't bother him in the least.
"I think this voice suits the character better. What do you think?" the man replied, running his fingers through his hair, only for it to fall messily back over his face. The gesture might've been comical—if he didn't look so menacing.
"This is amazing," Nolan said, visibly impressed. "The dedication you've shown to this role is unbelievable, T—"
The Joker coughed harshly, cutting Nolan off before he could say more.
Christian closed his eyes for a moment, thinking, then gave a small nod. "Who are you exactly?" he asked bluntly. "I get the whole method thing, but you could at least tell me your name."
The Joker studied him for a few moments, then replied in that same creepy voice, "I don't mind telling you—but first, hear my reasoning. You, as Batman, aren't supposed to know who's beneath this makeup. If we can replicate that uncertainty in the real world, it'll enhance your performance, too. So, the decision is yours. If you really want to know and promise not to tell anyone else, I'll share my identity."
Christian Bale almost said yes before he stopped to think. He liked to push himself for a role, but even he had never gone to such extremes. For that alone, he respected the man in front of him. If he didn't know the identity of this man, it would frustrate Christian—and that frustration would bleed into his performance against the Joker, which was perfect for the role.
"Don't tell me," he said with finality. "But at least give me some name to refer to you by. I can't keep calling you Joker in my head."
The man cackled maniacally, like the psychopath he was meant to be, then nodded. "Of course. Call me Frank."
"Alright, Frank," Christian nodded, before turning to Nolan. "Now, can we please start rehearsing? I know my scenes aren't for a few days, but I want to be as prepared as possible."
"Definitely," Nolan agreed. "Start running your lines and let it flow naturally. I won't interrupt unless I see something wrong."
(Break)
Christian Bale seemed a little insecure with me yesterday. I could sense it. As soon as we began acting, I saw his face getting paler by the moment. I don't blame him exactly—it's almost impossible to take a bland role like Bruce Wayne and elevate it to something truly memorable.
Not just Batman—most superheroes had the same problem. There were exceptions, like Deadpool or Wolverine, who stood out even against the villains, but most didn't. It's almost always the villain who's remembered after the movie ends. Be it Willem Dafoe's Green Goblin, Ian McKellen's Magneto, or Tom Hiddleston's Loki.
So I wasn't surprised when Bale started to get annoyed that I was outshining him. I could guarantee that if our roles were reversed, he would've outperformed me. I knew it, but I didn't say anything. It's better if he harbors a little animosity toward me—it's better for the character.
My ramblings aside, I looked over at the scene that had been meticulously set up by the production team. We were starting the shoot with the very first scene of the movie—the bank heist scene.
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